Infatuation
by Another Dilettante
Summary: Sometimes Reaver ends up with an infatuated fan that just can't take no for an answer, forcing him to use extreme measures to get rid of their annoying presence. Rated M for adult content and violence.


Disclaimer: I Don't own Fable or Reaver and all that jazz and I of course don't make any money from this.

This is my first shot at Fable and sexual stories, hopefully I'll get better at them. I wanted to focus on Reaver with a one shot so this is just about his interaction with a random made up noble fan of his. Sorry for any spelling mistakes, I admit I rushed with writing this a bit. I'd like some feedback, plus reviews encourage me to write more. I'd like to know if anyone is at all interested in Reaver stories like this. Feel free to toss around some ideas too!

**Infatuation**

"Master Weaver, a guest has arrived," Barry spoke from where he stood in the doorway to Reaver's study, his speech impediment as noticeable as ever. He bowed even though Reaver didn't bother to spare him a glance.

"Who is it?" Reaver frowned as he picked up his glass of wine and took a swig without taking his gaze away from the business documents splayed out on his desk. His jacket hung over the back of his chair and his cane rested against the side of the desk near his gloves and hat.

"Lady Camille."

That answer only deepened his frown. This made it the third time this week that she appeared on his doorstep begging for his attention. He found it a bit aggravating. Her looks weren't the problem, she was easy on the eyes in every way, but it was more of her personality that strained his patience. She didn't want to just fuck but talk and cuddle afterwards too, something he didn't exactly enjoy. If he kicked her out, she'd still return a few days later.

He'd heard gossip about her lately, gossip that helped explain her actions. Apparently she couldn't have children and her husband had up and gotten his mistress pregnant while threatening divorce. Ever since the whole debacle began, she started showing up on his doorstep on at least a weekly basis. It didn't surprise him too much, every few years he seemed to get a new infatuated fan that couldn't take no for an answer. Death threats didn't deter them. Every single one of them seemed to think that they were special, that they could change him and make him fall head over heels. Of course that never happened, and as far as Reaver was concerned it never would.

"Let her stay." Reaver stood up and stretched his taut muscles. He'd been sitting at that god forsaken desk for over an hour figuring out some of the problems plaguing his new constructions. Between missing materials, workers, bandit and balverine attacks, he found himself spending more and more time on his business pursuits. That and the damn peons that kept yelling for higher wages kept him from indulging in more pleasurable activities. Didn't they understand how expensive running a business could be? They should be grateful to him for giving them their jobs in the first place. After all, without him they would be starving in the streets with no wages at all to speak of. After everything he'd done for them they were still never satisfied, all the more reason to blow off some steam and relax for a bit. He did sorely need a respite from such dreary issues.

He moved to grab his gloves and paused, choosing to forgo them since it seemed like such a waste to only put them back on for only a short while. He didn't need to be all dressed up at this time of night; it felt nice to leave his gloves and hat off now and then. Grabbing his cane, he headed for the staircase, changing his annoyed frown into his trademark smirk. Even if he didn't want her coming around so much it still stroked his ego. His fans just couldn't resist him, and why should they with his good looks and bedroom talents? By the time he reached the top of the stairs Barry was already hanging up Camille's coat, revealing her incredibly low cut red dress that contrasted against her pale, milky white skin.

"Well hellooo my dear. I must say you look absolutely fetching in that dress of yours," he lifted his cane up as he spoke as if to emphasize his words. "What brings you to my humble abode on this beautiful night, hmmm?" He headed down the stairs while his gaze raked over Camille. She had left her dark curls down and his smirk grew at that. He had told her before that he liked the way her hair looked down and the way it felt against his skin in the bedroom.

"You look good yourself, as usual," as she spoke a blush crept over cheeks, tinging them a light pink. Her voice came out quiet, almost sounding a bit shy.

"Yes, I have been told before that I'm a rather handsome devil," he grabbed her hand and lifted it up to his lips, earning a smile from her. "Your husband didn't come with you I take it?" He glanced at the door then back to her. He just wanted to confirm what he suspected.

"No, he's…busy tonight."

"Ah, out with that lusty vixen of his again I take it?" he tapped his cane twice against the floor. "Barry, we'll take some wine in the parlor," he held out his arm for his guest and she took it, allowing him to lead her to the parlor when they sat side by side on a crimson sofa in front of the fireplace. "Forget about that husband of yours and let me comfort you tonight," Reaver spoke as he accepted a glass of wine from Barry. He didn't have to tell the man to leave the bottle behind; Barry was only all too acquainted with the habits of his master. Reaver held up his wine glass for a toast. "To pleasure and good wine."

Camille clanged her glass against his and they both took a large gulp of the red liquid, Reaver, eyeing up his guest over the top of his glass. When they both sat their glasses down, Reaver reached over and wrapped a hand around the back of her head and pulled her in for a deep kiss. He saw no reason to wait around. They both knew why she was here, so why delay it? Besides, he didn't want to give her time to talk or she would start prattling on about all kinds of boring topics that he couldn't care less about, and especially that husband of hers. That man wasn't even good looking in the slightest with that greasy skin of his, large belly, and piggy eyes and that made him of no concern to Reaver.

Feeling something wet against his face, Reaver brushed the tip of his tongue against hers before pulling away. At seeing the tears dripping down her face he struggled to not roll his eyes.

"He started the divorce proceedings, said he wants an heir so he'll marry his mistress." She hiccupped and Reaver encouraged her to finish her glass of wine. She did and he quickly poured some more into her glass. He wasn't here to comfort her; he just wanted to get under that silken dress of hers. Plus he found it offensive that she still had the mind to think of some other man when she was in his company. He needed to get her mind away from her sorrows so she could focus on their coming romp together.

"Now, now, drink up love and forget about him," he moved her glass to her lips to get her to drink a little more. He waited for her to finish the second glass. It took her a minute while he massaged her shoulders and kissed them to get her in the right mood. The fact that he didn't kick her out as soon as her tears started served as a testament to his eagerness to end his four day dry spell. At the moment, he was willing to endure a few tears to get what he wanted.

Finally, with her glass empty, he stood and held a hand out to her to lead her to his pleasure chamber as he referred to it. It was time to get down to the main course and he could feel himself twitching in his pants at the mere thought of it.

He practically tossed her onto the bed and wasted no time in climbing atop her, running his hands over her legs and lifting up her dress. He smiled in satisfaction when he felt no other clothing beneath the dress, just bare skin. After one more kisses, he tugged the dress off of her and ran his hands over her pale, naked flesh, admiring her.

"Beautiful as always, ma chère," he purred. Within seconds Camille was already squirming as he brushed his fingers over her sensitive folds, prodding one finger inside while he kissed down her neck. He pushed a second finger in, earning a small gasp from her. He reached up with his free hand to cup one of her breasts, kissing it before stroking her nipple with his tongue. He pulled his fingers out and rubbed her clit, earning a shudder and moan from her.

"Please do make some more of those delightful noises," he grinned at her.

"Your clothes are in the way," she half whispered. She leaned up and off of the pillows to start slipping his clothes off. He could feel himself straining against the material of his pants and he bit back a growl of desire when her hand brushed over his bulge. Pulling his hands away from her, he finished undressing himself before guiding her head towards his cock. With a smirk, he watched as she knelt down on the bed and reached out with her hand to caress him before engulfing him in her hot mouth. For him, this was starting to make putting up with her brief moment of tears worth it. He laced his fingers through her hair to hold her head down, making sure she couldn't pull away while he leaned back against the pile of pillows, watching her through half lidded eyes. He liked the way her hair tickled his skin as it cascaded over him, it made his cock twitch in excitement.

After a minute he stopped her when she scrapped her teeth on him. She was too sloppy and clumsy for his taste and he feared the damage she could inflict if he let her continue. So instead he eagerly grabbed for a condom and lubrication, readying himself as he knelt between her legs. He may be a sex fiend but that didn't stop him from using protection. The last thing he needed was some brat of his own running around or someone accusing him of being the father of their child. He hated kids and took pride in his lack of STDs despite all of the countless romps he took part in over the years, a rather impressive feat in his mind.

Her hands ghosted over his shoulders as he leaned over her. Grabbing her legs, he pulled her up as he pushed himself inside, letting out a groan of satisfaction in the process. He didn't hold back, he thrust into her hard and fast, earning gasps and moans from Camille as she arched into him. He considered that it was a bit of a pity that he hadn't had the patience to draw things out a bit longer and use some of his delightful toys, but right now he only cared about the end result. He heard before that her husband was terrible at sex, so no doubt he could make her feel ten times better even without any toys.

Camille clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her pants of pleasure matching his. He worked his magic while she wailed in pleasure; his reputation wasn't for naught after all.

"You feel good, so good," he panted in her ear as he reached down to lift up her bottom ever so slightly to get a better angle.

She came with a shudder as she called out his name, her insides tightening around him while her nails dug into his back leaving scratches. The feeling of her tightening and pulsing around him caused him to unleash his own orgasm with a groan. Yet it wasn't enough for him; he wasn't going to end the night there. He took a brief moment to collect himself and get ready for round two. He flipped her over, an easy task with her small frame.

"Be a dear and get on your hands and knees for me," he half panted as he helped position her. He eyed the whip hanging on his wall longingly, but he knew she didn't like that kind of play. If he used it he knew she'd run out. Sometimes he did like forcing such things on others, but tonight wasn't one of those nights. Perhaps tomorrow he'd call on someone who did like it rough, someone he could pull out the kinks with. Letting go of his train of thought, he thrust back into her, holding her by the hips to keep her in position. He fucked her to exhaustion, only stopping when he didn't have the energy to go another round.

#

Come morning, he walked out of his bathroom after perfecting his appearance to find her using one of his hairbrushes. He'd told her to leave the night before when he left to crawl into his normal bed, but here she was, not only defying his orders but touching his things without permission. Could she get anymore insolent? No wonder that her dolt of a husband wanted to leave her. His right hand twitched with desire to grab his gun out of his holster. But that would splatter blood and he did try to keep his personal bedroom free from blood, it would only ruin the décor.

"Good morning, my dear. I know it's still early but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I am a very busy man as of late so if you don't mind," he gestured towards the door. Right now she should be counting her lucky stars that he'd spared her. It was rather unusual for him, perhaps the long hours he'd put into expanding his business and ringing out every possible profit was starting to take a toll on him.

"Wait a minute," Lady Camille bit her bottom lip as she stepped forward, sitting the brush down and carefully approaching him.

Reaver tapped his cane on the ground irritably. "Yes, what is it?"

"I…" she paused, taking a deep breath while Reaver's gaze flicked to the clock in the room. He was just considering grabbing her and tossing her out forcibly when she finally started speaking again. "I can't go home. My husband moved his mistress in yesterday. I don't really have anywhere to go right now."

"I don't see how that has anything to do with me," Reaver frowned at her.

"I love you," Camille blurted out, her face turning red as she said it.

Reaver raised any eyebrow at her before bursting out in laughter. How could she possibly love him? Sure he may have said a few sweet things to lure her into his bed in the past, but that was just in his nature. What they shared wasn't anything close to love. She only came to him for pleasure and that's all he saw it as. "I do believe you're confused, quite understandable with the situation you're in. Now if you don't min-"

"But I do love you!" she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms about his waist and clinging to him. "Please let me stay, I'll do anything you want. I've never felt this way with anyone but you," her voice cracked as her tears threatened to overflow again.

Reaver rolled his eyes. What was so many of his bed partners mistaking sex for love things days? Really, it was such a bother. He remembered one girl from about forty years ago, what was her name again? Jen? Jane? Well whatever it was, she had become completely unhinged when she confessed her love and he turned her down. It turned into her trying to stalk him. It ended when he finally put a bullet in her pretty brain and threw her body off of the dock in Bloodstone. Come to think of it, she had looked a lot like Camille.

He also found it offensive that Camille slept with him in order to try to wring some charity out of him. Anyone in their right mind should know that he didn't do charity. He really did hate when women or even men for that matter thought that they could get what they wanted from him so easily. The only easy thing to get from him was sex and even then he wouldn't bed someone who he didn't deem as attractive enough. He might be a sex fiend but he did have standards.

"Terribly sorry, but I don't feel the same," he shoved her towards the door, pushing her out and into the hall while she started sobbing, grabbing at his shirt, and digging her heels into the carpet.

"No, don't make me go!" she wailed at him. "I will never love anyone else. If I can't be with you then I'd rather die!" she tried to pound against his chest but he caught her hands.

"Very well. If that's how you feel then have it your way." In one swift movement he shoved her away from him and grabbed his Dragonstomper. He fired off a bullet, hitting her right between the eyes. Camille crumpled onto the ground like a rag doll. Reaver sighed at the splatters of blood on the wall across from him and the blood pooling onto the floor from her head. Her eyes stared blankly towards the stairs, her knees bent beneath her. He couldn't help but to observe that the color of her blood nearly matched the color of her wrinkled dress.

"Barry!" Reaver barked. Running footsteps sounded up the steps and Barry came into view.

"Yes, Master Weaver," Barry panted as he appeared, making a disgusted face at Camille's body.

"I want breakfast prepared now and I want this mess cleaned up before I get back from work today, do you understand?"

"Yes," Barry bowed low before disappearing off down the hall again.

Reaver looked back towards Camille's body. "Pity, that blood might leave a stain. Ah well, onto business," he retreated back into his room to grab his hat. Usually he tried to refrain from shooting his adoring fans, but sometimes he saw no reason not to. As he headed towards the dining room he briefly wondered who the next one would be. Maybe that dreadful Benjamina woman would return. He would have shot her already but he got too much of a kick out of the way she practically worshiped the ground he walked on, an admirable trait in anyone. As he sat down at the table he let his thoughts dissolve. With his blood lust satiated, now it was time to satisfy his hunger. Then he could get onto more important matters, after all, how could Albion ever survive without him?


End file.
